


Hot Chocolate

by redrichards



Category: The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, because thats obviously where they are, i shouldn't add him but i am, just a smidge of Hank Pym in the beginning, just derping around, please excuse my shitty writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:57:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrichards/pseuds/redrichards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>random carol/jessica drabble.  don't mind me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Chocolate

Jessica has this astounding beauty about her, something that shouldn’t be possible, but is. I have long been overdosed in one-sided arguments from Hank who says such things definitely were possible, and that the impossible was something explained by scientific pursuits. But this was impossible.  


No matter what she wore, she was always gorgeous; her long dark hair framed her face, curling over the crown of her forehead from the roots, swooping in lazy arches and spirals past her ears, thick and dark. Her eyes were a languid yellow, almost flooding to the point of a cold green; they were inhuman and shined in the darkest of evenings when a sly smile peeked out from her woolen scarf.  


She wasn’t much for current fashion trends, and her closet had started bleeding out into the floor of her bedroom on day one and now there was no carpet in sight. She was a mess, a bit of a clutz, but she never seemed to care. She had a humor that was light and witty and a bit self-deprecating, and she could make lazing on the couch while pigging out with a box of pizza look far too sexy to be fair.  


She liked the evening more than she did the morning, although she always missed basking in the eerie calm of dusk for her cartoons, and ended up cursing herself for it afterwards. Her laughs came sparingly when accompanied by people, but alone, sifting through books or eagerly watching old re-runs of shows way past their time, you can find her with her head tossed back and her eyes crinkled around the edges, just laughing. She says it’s an ugly laugh and makes jokes that she’s a witch, but I’ll always disagree. It’s an honest laugh that leaves her gasping for air, squeaking in a poor recovery.  


When she sleeps, she has nightmares, her screams breaking the quiet of the night. I always have mugs of hot chocolate at the ready when this happens, and we curl up on the couch together, passing stories between sips until her head rests on my shoulder and her breathing deepens to a sense of calm.  


I want to hold her and never let go. I want to tell her that there is a reason she’s still here, and that there is someone who needs her to be home and safe every morning, every evening, and every night. I want to tell her she’s beautiful beyond reason, and I want to take those nightmares away from her. I want to destroy anyone who ever dares to try to hurt her, and I want there to always be a warm blanket and a steaming mug ready for her when she’s not okay. I want to tell her these things, and sometimes I whisper them into the night, after she’s long since fallen asleep, curled up by my side.  


_I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> this might develop into a whole college au miniverse with just random plot points and shit because i just need someplace to derp around and write for a bit. don't expect anything quality please.


End file.
